


Thief of Hearts

by blythechild



Category: White Collar
Genre: Betrayal, Con Artists, Crimes & Criminals, Disappointment, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Lies, Loss of Faith, M/M, Male Friendship, Misunderstandings, Secrets, Theft, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:16:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6198268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythechild/pseuds/blythechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal is suspected in a gallery robbery, and the <i>not knowing</i> breaks something in Peter.</p><p> </p><p>This is a work of fanfiction and as such I do not claim ownership over the characters herein. It was created as a personal amusement. This story is suitable for all audiences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thief of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).



> Created from the following prompt by brumeier on the comment_fic community: _Any, Any, Thief of Hearts_.
> 
> This is my first White Collar fic - be gentle with me.

Peter slapped Diana’s report down on his desk and then thumped its surface hard enough to cause agents in the bullpen to cast their eyes to his office.

“Dammit, Neal!” 

He tried to keep it to the confines of his suite but by the way some of the staff nodded a little too knowingly, he guessed he hadn’t kept it quiet enough. It was all there in black and white, or as black and white as Neal ever got. It was a sophisticated break-in, not an inside job as Peter had secretly hoped. The forgery was excellent, even the curator had been initially fooled. And Neal had been beside himself with joy at the crime scene, going on and on about the challenge of counterfeiting a Hieronymus Bosch, how it would be a feather in any professional’s cap. And now Neal’s anklet data showed that he hadn’t left June’s place at all during the time of the robbery – in fact, it showed that he _hadn’t moved more than six feet in two and a half hours_ and knowing Neal, that was impossible. Peter had no idea how he did it, and while that problem at one time would have enthralled him, all he felt now was anger.

Against all of his instincts and his legendary gut, Peter had come to believe in Neal. He bought in when Neal told him that he’d never lied to him. Neal had allowed Peter to believe in something other than the truth from time to time, but never outright lied to his face. He’d promised. So when Peter had turned to Neal in the gallery and asked him point blank if he had anything to do with the Bosch theft, he’d needed an unambiguous response. He _needed_ for his faith to be true. Neal had just given him that winning grin, tucking his chin to the side as he clapped Peter on the shoulder with a reassuring squeeze.

“A little faith, Peter,” was all he said before he sauntered off to harass Jones and the curator.

Neal just didn’t get it. He’d never understand that, to Peter, it wasn’t so much the stealing that got to him (okay, that wasn’t true – he was FBI for chrissakes, it was always going to be about the stealing). It was the betrayal of his allegiance. Peter had never planned on _liking_ Neal as much as he did. He never thought that he’d look forward to spending time with him or that their partnership would be so satisfying. And he never, _ever_ thought that he’d come to value Neal almost as much as he did Elizabeth and hope that maybe, after Neal’s term was up that he’d consider staying on the straight and narrow. Staying with him in his messy mash-up of FBI-and-marriage family. He wanted _to keep_ Neal.

Yeah, it was a screwed up impulse and he tried not to pry it open too much because the possible reasons for it scared him way too much. But Neal was Neal – everything was a game or a con to him, even Peter. He didn’t understand how much Peter cared about the promises he made. He didn’t see how each time Neal made him doubt, it cracked and calcified his heart a little. Neal had crept into him and stolen something irreplaceable, something Peter didn’t even know he’d lost until Neal gave him his flirty smirk and danced around an obvious answer. And suddenly the cold void at the center of him told him what was missing. Peter would probably never get it back either even if he tossed Neal into a SuperMax for the rest of his life, because Neal didn’t know he’d taken it in the first place.

Neal always said that he never stole from people who couldn’t afford it, but maybe he’d lied to Peter about that as well. Peter couldn’t tell the lies from the truth any more. And Neal was a great liar, a consummate mirage of what you secretly wanted, a master counterfeiter of reality. He was a skilled thief of hearts. Peter’s heart wasn’t just stolen, it was broken too, and he didn’t want it back in that condition.

He tossed the report onto the pile that he’d knew he’d never solve. It wasn’t a large stack, but it was a corner of his desk that he hated passionately. Now, Neal existed there as well. He felt the bullpen shift as Neal walked through the front doors and loped to his desk, a crooked, charming smile for everyone on his face. Once he was settled, he looked up to Peter’s office and gave him the same winning smile, jutting his chin in casual greeting, and Peter felt as if a huge, blistered hole was shot right through the center of him. He smiled back.

Neal ruined everything.


End file.
